


Ace Outside The Hole

by stevergrsno (noxlunate)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Steve Rogers, Asexuality, Fluff, M/M, Minor Sharon Carter/Sam Wilson, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, Tinder, but they're pretty minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlunate/pseuds/stevergrsno
Summary: “I don’t usually do this,” Steve says, leaning up to look at Bucky over the top of the table.“You mean scrambling around on your floor looking for your tinder hookups body jewelry isn’t your normal Friday night routine?”“No- I mean, I don’t normally do that either, but I don’t normally dothis,” He says, waving a hand sort of vaguely between himself and Bucky, “and I’m sure everyone says they don’t, but I really,really, don’t.”It feels like an understatement, though it’s better than telling someone he’s had sex approximately 1 ½ times in the past 5 years because there’s been nobody he really wanted to do that with.In which Steve decides a tinder hookup is a great distraction, discovers that it's not, and still ends up getting something pretty damn good out of it.





	Ace Outside The Hole

**Author's Note:**

> I've been incredibly self indulgent and wrote the asexual Steve fic that my heart desired.  
> Alternate titles by @spacerenegades over on twitter:  
> Ace tentatively approaching the hole with trepidation  
> Ace confused why people like holes

There comes a time in every person’s life when they find themselves, at some time past midnight, with their life feeling like it’s in shambles around them (even if it actually probably isn’t), scrolling through a glorified hookup app masquerading as a dating app.

Steve’s not even sure why or how it’s happened, even though Sam, with his annoying psychology degree, might claim it’s something to do with Steve not knowing how to handle grief and self destructing once a year because of that.

Steve isn’t self destructing, thank you very much, he’s just getting in touch with his somewhat wobbly sexuality or lack thereof via a possibly ill fated intent to hook up with someone on OkTinderBumbleFish or whatever this particular app is called.

It’s not his fault, is the thing. Not _really._ His well meaning friends had been very well meaningly attempting to distract him from the fact that it’s October and October is categorically an awful time of the year for Steve, but too many drinks in and a dumb joke about how he just needs to get laid by Clint that was followed by a smack to Clint’s head by Sharon has now lead to this. To this moment here. Where Steve’s friends have all filtered back to their own homes, and Steve is left _alone,_ with only his dog for company _,_ staring at a picture of quite possibly the nicest looking man he’s ever seen.

He’s _gorgeous._ His smile makes _Steve_ want to smile. He’s wearing the coziest sweater Steve has ever seen, one sleeve rolled up and pinned over where his left arm ends just before the elbow. His remaining arm looks bigger than Steve’s _thighs._

Maybe he _does_ need to get laid. He’s never been quite great at knowing what all the fuss was about when it came to it, and he’s certainly _tried_ to understand. But people do this kind of thing. He knows that much. And maybe- maybe it’d help? A distraction, right? It’d be a distraction. And it’s not like it’d be _bad_ to have someone with a smile like that’s attention focused all on him for a few minutes.

It’s just casual sex. Just because he’s never been good at it doesn’t mean it's a thing he can’t do.

“What do you think Quincy?” He asks, staring his dog down like he has the answers to the universe.

Quincy’s tongue lolls out and he shoves his big ol’ head straight into Steve’s face.

Steve swipes right.

It’s a match.

 

As various friends anecdotes have informed him, it really doesn’t take all that much time to move from casual back and forth to “what you up to?” to inviting Bucky over to “watch a movie.” And, well, Bucky Barnes is-  

Bucky Barnes is _nice._ He shows up with pizza and they make it a good twenty minutes into The Office before any moves are made. Steve’s honestly not sure if that means Bucky’s showing restraint or not for this type of situation, but it gives him time to both talk himself into actually doing this _and_ to go through six different levels of freaking out about it.

Steve tries to lose himself in the kissing. That’s a thing people do right? They lose themselves? In kissing? God, _how do they_ _do it?_ Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing something weird with his tongue. He _can’t_ be doing the right thing with his tongue can he? Except Bucky seems into it? Is he into it? He _sounds_ like he’s into it?

Oh god, Steve doesn’t know what to do with his _hands._

“ _Relax,”_ Bucky says, pulling back and looking at Steve intently, squeezing at his shoulder in a way that feels _a lot_ nicer than the kissing if Steve’s entirely honest with himself, “Are you okay?”

He looks so _concerned._ And it’s not that Steve didn’t necessarily expect that from him, it’s literally the bare basics of human decency, but, well, okay, it’s really _not_ what he expects out of a random middle of the night tinder hookup.

He hadn’t _really_ expected some sort of scary serial killer type of situation, but he had, maybe, expected a sort of wham, bam, thank you man sort of thing.

“Yeah,” Steve says, shifting forward a little on his knees, sliding his hands up over Bucky’s chest and pushing him back, “Yeah, I’m good.”

He _is._ This can be good. _It can totally be fine._

 

It’s not fine. It’s _totally not fine_ . Because it starts to go fine and then Steve _apparently_ does something weird with his hand to Bucky’s nipple and then Bucky says “ _Shit_ , my nipple ring,” and Steve ends up on the floor, searching under his couch for the tiniest little silver ball the world has ever fucking seen.

“Shit, I’m so fucking sorry,” Steve says, swiping his arm underneath the couch while Bucky feels around under Steve’s coffee table.

“Steve-”

“I don’t-”

“ _Steve-_ ”

“I don’t usually do this,” Steve says, leaning up to look at Bucky over the top of the table.

“You mean scrambling around on your floor looking for your tinder hookups body jewelry _isn’t_ your normal Friday night routine?”

Steve gets stuck for a moment just _looking_ at him, at the way his whole expression creases into a smile and the little bits of hair that have escaped his bun to curl into his face, the broad slope of his shoulders and the taper of his waist. He’s pretty sure this is the kind of guy that when drunk, Sharon waxes poetic about how she wants to lick him all over while Sam pats her shoulder consolingly and says ‘I know baby, I _know._ It must be hard to be all tied up in a committed, monogamous relationship with as fine a piece of ass as mine.’

Does Steve want to, in the words of Sharon Carter, lick him all over? Steve _wants_ to _want to_ but that’s not exactly the same thing. Mostly, he thinks what he wants to do is faceplant directly into Bucky’s chest and watch something less boring than The Office all night, but he’s pretty sure they don’t make apps to facilitate that kind of thing, and that even if they did, people like Bucky wouldn’t be on them.

“No- I mean _,_ I don’t normally do that either, but I don’t normally do _this,”_ He says, waving a hand sort of vaguely between himself and Bucky, “and I’m sure everyone says they don’t, but I really, _really,_ don’t,” he finishes before he shoves his arm back under the couch, searching for the lost body jewelry.

It feels like an understatement, though it’s better than telling someone he’s had sex approximately 1 ½ times in the past 5 years because there’s been nobody he really wanted to do that with.

Bucky’s quiet for a moment, and when Steve cranes his neck around to look at him again he seems to be considering something. “I believe you,” He says finally, and then “You know you don’t _have_ to do this right?”

Steve abandons the search under the couch, sitting up and twisting around to look at Bucky properly, “I know, I don’t-”

“I’m just saying, you didn’t necessarily seem very into everything? Not that you were bad! Just- Well, you can tell when someone’s into something Steve and you… weren’t. And if it’s because of the arm that’s fine, I don’t expect everyone to-”

“Wait, you think it’s because of your _arm?_ Bucky-”

“It’s fine, not everyone can deal with-”

“Bucky, I’m _asexual,”_ Steve says quickly, mostly to get Bucky to stop thinking something that’s ridiculous, but also because, well, it’s _true_ , and it has the added bous that it seems to stop Bucky in whatever tracks he was getting ready to barrel down.

“You’re what? ...but you were- on a tinder- you’re- what?”

And Steve would get irritated about the confusion if it seemed in any way not well meaning, but Bucky’s nose wrinkles up kind of adorably and he rubs his hand at the back of his neck in bemusement and Steve gets it, he _does,_ he definitely just spent the last couple hours doing what he assumes is a very typical set up to a tinder hook up. Confusion is allowable here, even if the part of Steve that tends to want to scream that asexuality is _varied_ and plenty of asexual people engage in casual sex tends to want to rear its head in these situations.

“Asexual. Me. I mean, that’s what I am-”

“Then why were you-” and Bucky sort of gestures between them, as though that’s the only way to phrase _‘attempting a tinder one night stand’_ which _fair._

“It doesn’t mean I don’t like orgasms. Or physical affection. Or that I can’t make dumb middle of the night decisions like everyone else and decide those two things might be nice together.”

Bucky’s hands raise in a sort of surrendering gesture, “Right. Of course. That makes sense. Just, ya know, you didn’t really seem like you thought those two things were actually good together when we were heading toward them?”

Steve would be irritated, or maybe feel like this is condescending, or even like Bucky was attempting to guilt trip him, but there’s something warm to his voice, something in his expression that says he’s taking great joy in calling Steve on his shit now that he’s caught onto it, and instead of being pissed he’s just fighting the urge to do something incredibly stupid like stick his tongue out at Bucky.

“ _Ugh,”_ Steve says, with feeling, and then, because it’s best to rip bandaids off quickly, “Do you wanna try again?”

“Do you?” Bucky asks, eyebrows shooting so high Steve worries they might leap off Bucky’s face and float into the stratosphere

“God, no. Sorry. Whatever mood I was in that started this has officially been killed,” Steve says, maybe a little less apologetic than he should be for having some random guy make the trek all the way to his apartment for a middle of the night hookup that wasn’t even going to lead to hooking up.

“Alright,” Bucky says and then, “Aha! Found it!” as he snatches a small silver ball up off of Steve’s living room rug, then attaches it one handed with a lot more ease than Steve really expected possible at that angle. After that’s done he proceeds to flop onto Steve’s couch like he belongs there, dragging the box of pizza closer with a “So what are we watching next?”

Which is-

Well, it’s safe to say it’s not exactly what Steve had been expecting when the possibly-a-hookup turned into a very-definitely-not-a-hookup.

“Whatever you want,” Steve says finally, dropping the remote onto Bucky’s still very bare-  and still very nice despite the fact that Steve doesn’t particularly want to do anything to it beside put his head it on it and just kind of _stay there_ \- chest. He takes the spot on the couch beside Bucky and if he maybe watches Bucky scroll through netflix with full intent of judging a good quarter of his personality purely based on what he picks for them to watch then that’s his prerogative.  

Bucky spends longer than is strictly acceptable scrolling through netflix options, but he settles on Stranger Things eventually which _is_ acceptable in Steve’s opinion, and then, even more acceptably, Bucky says “is this is okay?” while sliding an arm around Steve’s shoulders and, well, yes, that is definitely okay.

Steve might be dealing with the fact that yeah, the past few hours have been a failed experiment and no, he’s pretty definitely _not_ interested in having sex with this guy no matter how much he wants to just sort of _stare at him_ because really, how is it legal to be _that_ aesthetically appealing?

He has to admit that there’s a reason he thought that a dumb hookup be a good idea in the first place though and that that reason probably has at least a little to do with the fact that Steve’s status as of late has been the equivalent of an extremely cranky touch starved cat attempting to ignore the fact that it’s rapidly encroaching on the 6 year anniversary of his mother passing away. With all this accounted for, a really nice arm attached to a really nice shirtless dude being wrapped around him is kind of nice.

“This is. Okay. Just this though,” Steve says as he settles in a little closer.

“Of course. Now shhh it’s a good part.”

“It’s all a good part.”

“ _Exactly.”_

 

They fall asleep on Steve’s shitty couch sometime during Dustin being an idiot with D’artagnan.

The next morning Bucky yawns his way through a goodbye and a promise to text Steve that Steve absolutely does not expect to be fulfilled and then he’s gone, leaving Steve with his empty apartment and Quincy wagging his tail and huffing his insistence that Steve take him out.

And then, much to Steve’s everlasting surprise, Bucky Barnes _actually_ texts him.

And then he _keeps_ texting him.

And then, a little over a week into those texts, he goes and asks Steve on what sounds an awful lot like an actual date.

 

It turns out to _actually_ be a date.

They go to the movies.

It’s incredibly cheesy but Steve considers it a true feat that he makes it a whole half hour into the latest superhero mega blockbuster before very pointedly resting his arm on the armrest, palm facing upward in invitation.

Bucky, to Steve’s delight, wastes absolutely no time in sliding his hand into Steve’s, curling their fingers together without looking away from the screen.

Eventually Bucky takes his hand back to eat some popcorn and it should be gross when he returns it to Steve’s hand a little greasy from butter, but it’s warm and awkward only in the way where it makes Steve’s whole _being_ feel like he’s suddenly been occupied by an entire fucking horde of butterflies.

Steve’s sure that that can’t possibly be healthy. No body is actually equipped to host a whole flock of butterflies, just like no heart is equipped to handle Bucky Barnes tilting his head towards him and smiling softly in the darkness of the theater.

“How do you feel about kissing?” Bucky whispers softly while the hero is swinging his love interest into his arms to kiss her on screen.

It’s a fair question considering what’s happening on screen and how their first (second? Does the first night count as a date?) date has been going. It’s still not a question Steve is ever sure how to answer, especially not in the middle of a crowded movie theater.

“Neutral, but with conditions,” Steve finally settles on, and Bucky nods, mulling it over for seemingly only as long as it takes for the action to pick up again on screen.

 

Later, when the movie has ended and they’ve consumed at least Steve’s weight in street food between the two of them while wandering through the city back to Steve’s place, Steve ends up with his back against the wall outside his apartment, Bucky’s hand still tangled up in his.

“I had fun. We should do this again sometime,” Bucky says and Steve feels like he imagines teenagers who actually dated in highschool felt, or maybe like Sandy in Grease felt when Danny Zuko paid attention to her.

Sort of fizzy, like maybe he just wants to stare at Bucky for the entire night, or like he doesn’t quite want to let go of his hand just yet.

He thinks he maybe says “Yeah. Sure. We should,” or _something_ to that general effect, but mostly he’s distracted by the way Bucky’s moved in closer, his hand untangling from Steve’s to find a new place on Steve’s jaw, his thumb brushing over Steve’s cheek. Steve’s pretty sure he’s making a real good approximation of that cranky touch starved cat he’s been compared to by leaning into that touch.

“So, about those conditions?” Bucky asks, and he’s suddenly very close. Steve could probably count the faint scattering of freckles across his nose if he really took a chance to.

“Huh?” Steve says, which he thinks is _really very eloquent_ considering just how close Bucky is and just how distracting the steady sweeping os his thumb over the soft skin of Steve’s cheek _is._ Steve would probably pay a lot of money if it meant Bucky would keep touching him like that - At least until the wind changed and he wanted Bucky to _stop_ with the touching.

“The conditions for kissing, Steve,” Bucky reminds him patiently.

“Right, right, those conditions.”

“And they are?”

“Oh. It’s not that I don’t like doing it,” Steve says, shrugging and contemplating the _very tempting_ idea of hiding his face away in Bucky’s chest. It looks like it’d be a pretty comfortable hiding place afterall. But at the same time there’s not _actually_ anything to hide from. He likes what he likes, and doesn’t like what he doesn’t, and if Bucky’s got a problem with it he can go fuck himself, no matter how much Steve likes him already. “It’s just that I don’t always like it and sometimes it’s hard to get out of my head when it’s happening, and there’s ways I _don’t_ like it, and ways I _always like it-_ like cheek kisses? _Great._ Forehead kisses? _Awesome._ Those dumb like, nose bumps? Those are fantastic too. And there’s times I don’t like it and it’s just-” Steve cuts off before he can build up steam in what might end up to be a truly awkward ramble if he lets it go on.

“Do you like it now?” Bucky asks and Steve actually takes a moment to think about it before nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like it now.”

“Alright. How about you kiss me goodnight then, and I’ll follow your lead,” Bucky offers and Steve’s brain isn’t quite cooperating, too preoccupied with doing the equivalent of making a dial up noise, but he’s pretty sure he nods, because Bucky’s guiding him in with a gentle hand to Steve’s jaw and then Steve’s kissing him.

It’s unfair is the thing. Totally and completely unfair because Bucky is the kind of _unattainably gorgeous_ that means he should be being painted by fucking Da Vinci or having really sweaty, really great sex with someone equally as unattainably gorgeous on like, a beach in Hawaii or some shit, instead of being shown exactly how Steve likes to kiss outside Steve’s shitty apartment.

Bucky follows Steve’s lead amazingly well though, and Steve’s not about to say his brain turns off and he stops thinking while it happens, because it _doesn’t,_ but Bucky does make a nice sound when Steve settles his hands on his shoulders and then Steve gets the bright idea to get his hands into Bucky’s hair and that goes over even better, and it’s nice, Steve thinks. There’s no pressure here. Bucky’s hand hasn’t even moved from Steve’s jaw, isn’t doing that wandering thing some people do where it’s like they’re wanting to get Steve out of his clothes, and he isn’t making the kiss anything _more._

They’re _just_ sharing a goodnight kiss.

And then Bucky steps back and ends it.

“Was that okay?” Bucky asks.

Steve says “Yeah. Yeah, that was good,” and thinks _‘I’d keep kissing you forever if you kept your hand on my face like that,’_ and _‘You should be touching me literally all the time. It’s fine. You don’t need your hand for anything. I can do anything important for you,’_ and says _none of it,_ because saying literally any of that would be _insane_ and he does in fact realize that. Even if Bucky Barnes has sent him head first into fucking crazyville by being fucking _perfect._

And _then,_ because Steve isn’t already gone on the dude enough or anything, he says goodnight and kisses Steve on the goddamn _cheek_ and tells Steve to give Quincy a belly rub for him and then leaves with a promise to call Steve again.

 

Bucky does in fact call Steve again. He also asks Steve out again, and again, and _again,_ until somewhere along the line Steve’s staring at Bucky while they decide what sort of take out they want on a Wednesday Date Night in Bucky’s apartment and realizing that holy shit, they’ve gone from going on dates to actively _dating._

“We’re in a relationship,” Steve says like it’s a revelation while he exercises his veto powers by removing one of the take out menus from the pile.

“Mmmhmmm,” Bucky agrees, pouring over the menus still, absently sliding his reading glasses up his nose. Because Bucky wears reading glasses. Of course he does. Steve had wanted to yell at the universe when he found out because it’s unfairly adorable and sometimes when he takes them off there’s a little indent across the bridge of his nose. Steve has learned the joy of kissing that one spot right before passing out on top of Bucky on the nights one of them ends up at the other’s place. It’s great. It’s disgustingly cute. Steve’s disgusted by his own self.

“Okay, but _you,_ Bucky Barnes, are in a relationship with _me,”_ Steve says, like Bucky really ought to realize the enormity of this situation.

Bucky heaves a sigh like Steve is being unreasonable, which, _fair,_ then turns his attention entirely away from the take out menus and fully onto Steve, which, _unfair._

“Listen,” Bucky starts, “I know you think I’m some god cut from the same cloth as Adonis or whatever, which really, don’t stop thinking that, it’s great that you feel that way, real good on my ego, but it’s not like we’re on entirely uneven footing here, and it’s not like I had people lining up out my door before you,”

“I fail to see how that’s even remotely possible,” Steve says, a little offended by all the people who _should_ be lining up out the door to be with Bucky. Bucky’s got his flaws, sure, including but not limited to being an almost _aggressive_ cuddler when he sleeps, having the wrong favorite falafel stand, and folding over the corners of the pages on his books to mark his spot like a _monster_ but really, all those things make Steve like him more in some convoluted weird way.

“Rogers, you see long lines of people waiting to get it on with traumatized amputees? Cause lemme tell you, if they exist, they’re filled with people with _real weird_ fetishes and I’m not at all into it. It’s been weirdly reassuring to know that not only do you not care _,_ but you’re also not gonna ask to like, rub off on my stump or some weird shit like that.”

Steve takes that in for a moment, nodding a little as he slips into Bucky’s lap, slides his glasses off so that he can kiss the exact spot between the bridge of Bucky’s nose he’d been thinking about earlier, and asks “And you really don’t care?”  

“That you wanting to have sex with literally anyone, including me, requires the stars to be aligned perfectly, the mood to be right, your back to not be hurting, and your asthma to not be acting up all at once?”

Steve nods.

“Fuck no. I like you, and I like dating you. I like being with you. And not to sound cocky, but I know you feel the same way. I don’t need either of us to prove that with our dicks.”

Steve thinks there’s something under that, something that they’re not quite ready for yet, but he likes what he’s hearing nonetheless, and he likes Bucky, which is why he has no qualms in bumping their noses together affectionately and telling Bucky “I like you too you overly sincere weirdo. Now, order me Chinese before I wither away,” before he flops sideways off of him and shoves a menu and Bucky’s phone into his chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but it’s fond, the result of months now of exposure to Steve Rogers.

“Aye aye Captain Demanding.”

“Is that anyway to treat your superiors, Sergeant Smart-Ass?” Steve asks, shoving his bare feet directly under Bucky’s thighs where they can be properly warmed by what is truly a masterpiece of the human body and also maybe proof that God _does_ exist. Asexual or not, Steve can appreciate that Bucky Barnes has incredible thighs. They deserve poems dedicated to them- _masterpieces._

“It sure as shit is. Now shush so I can order your Chinese food,” Bucky says and Steve, for once in his life, does exactly that, shutting up and watching his boyfriend order food.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me @attackofthezee on twitter! We can scream about these dumb superheros together


End file.
